


Opening Night

by Traillbits



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber RPF
Genre: Character Study, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 21:31:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19048816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traillbits/pseuds/Traillbits
Summary: October 9, 1986. After so much planning and preparing opening night is finally upon them, and finally it is time for a man to take up the masked mantle. It is time for the Phantom's opera to begin. (Original London Cast drabble, I wrote this piece several years ago)





	Opening Night

"Almost time," He's told whilst being rushed to the dressing room, his costume laid out and prepared. He is seated in the chair for what feels like an eternity but he stands visually a changed man. He dressed and was assisted in the remainder of his outfit. Emerging out of the dressing room he glances over himself in the mirror, not looking like himself at all in the black tailcoat suit.

Everyone had arrived at last; despite everyone aware of the full house it is still a shock to see such a turnout, but then again he remembered the previews. Every seat is steadily being filled, people discuss among their companions of what they believe will happen in the show, others simply wait patiently for the opening act. Those harsh eyes thirsty to critique had their eyes set and locked for the actors that would eventually step forward. Month after month after month of build up for this, the opening night.

It has been an interesting turn of event in his career, as this man of comical and satire that resulted in a roar of mild laughter now being introduced to a dark, newly refined motif. He is completely out of his comfort-zone, but at the same time it is a wondrous experience he has had with the other cast members. He hoped he could still stay in touch with some of them.

For himself it was a journey, he had worked hours in pouring his soul into this. While he'd made friends, there was one silent member whom he really felt a strong connection with. Every night that the makeup was reapplied, the costume adorned. He could see and feel this strange new friend. 

He's told that Act I is ready to begin, it's not time for his big reveal just yet. But even still from the small alcove he already can hear muffled applause through the wall, it seemed to consume all his thoughts. And that overture, the symphony loud and dominating to all whom heard its magnificence. 

And then the story truly begins, and the audience is greeted by Carlotta's drawl voice. He stifles a chuckle, she is quite good really. Everyone in their company was pouring their hearts into these characters and personas. The dancers that twirled about on stage with grace and precise in their layers of beading and frills, the costumes were remarkable. 

He wonders if all is going well, though it certainly sounds like it. All is prepared as the true soprano allows her voice to soar and captivate the audience with awe. The man slips the dark cloak over his shoulders, the white bowtie around his neck fastened comfortably, the black suit without a single crease or thread out of place.

He takes a last look at the hideous layering of 'skin' attached to his face; it is both grotesque and impressive how it looked fairly real upon him. The remainder of his unaffected features are coated in the make-up as he appeared to be a ghostly pale complexion. His hair was concealed with a more sophisticated cut wig so as he matches the estranged man he will soon become on the large scaled stage. It was covered up quite well actually; he could not recognize himself in the least bit. Even the eyes that looked back at him in the mirror, the right a pale blue as though he'd gone partially blind. 

He then picks up the piece de resistance. A mask. A white, porcelain half piece. As he pressed it to his face it had fit perfectly, the final puzzle piece fitting into place as if it belonged there.

He was ready, no more was his real name, now he was a man which had no name. and a face only meant for a world of darkness beneath the opera house.

Finally he waited in the wings of his hideaway behind the mirror. Being the first showing of this production he was overwhelmed, despite having gone through similar anxiety during previews and their mishaps. Slightly unnerved, awaiting his queue felt like an eternity. There were so many people waiting out there, to say the least it was obvious to feel overwhelmed, as an actor a common stage jitter.

Then came the stage-hand's signal as the orchestra drum beats grew faster, as his heart pumped hard in his chest. He adjusted his headpiece before finally interjecting himself into the scene.

"Insolent boy! This slave of fashion…Basking in your glory!" His voice booms all around, as the woman looks all around, hearing the voice from everywhere but seeing no one. The lights dim as only a single spot light illuminates her. "Ignorant fool! This brave young suitor. Sharing in my triumph!"

"Angel I hear you. Speak, I listen. Stay by my side guide me…" She beckons, longing for their awaited dark duet. "Angel my soul was weak, forgive me… Enter at last, Master."

His tone becomes softer to his dear chestnut haired beauty than the original heat of anger that this booming voice flared. He's prepared to reveal his face to the public eyes-well part of his face for the time being that is.

"Flattering child, you shall know me…See why in shadow I hide…" He draws her attention with soothing, calm words. He now takes his place, ready for all to see him as his new identity. "Look at your face in the mirror, I am there inside!" From the glass his dark demeanor comes into view, the audience is surprised but in a good manner by this shadowed and mysterious man. The fedora covers his eyes from them, the lady waiting on stage for him continues on, walking ever closer towards his opaque image in the glass mesmerized to find her angel of music at last.

"Angel of Music, guide and guardian! Grant to me your glory. Angel of Music, hide no longer! Come to me strange angel…" The mirror is pulled away as darkness hides it, fog escapes onto the stage, as now she's nearly close enough to approach her Angel, this dark composer, the plagued man.

This Phantom.

"I am your Angel of Music…Come to me Angel of Music," His soothing words calling the girl to him, she reaching out for him even as the young suitor returns.

"Whose is this voice?" He asks, attempting to unlock the door to no avail. "Who is that in there?" He inquires in a panic, frantically calling to his Little Lotte. But the Angel's voice is too powerful as she now walks trance like to him, grasping his hand in her own before being enveloped by the dark. 

Just as Christine had succumb to him, the actor upon the stage at this moment, was fully under the control of the mask.

"I am your Angel of Music…Come to me Angel of Music," He repeats and whisks the angelic soprano away with him through the mirror passage, into the foggy darkness.

"Christine!" Raoul cries out,

At this moment, the Phantom of the Opera had finally manifested himself into the mortal world, through a guise of attire and alluring music. His image infamous for decades soon to come after this man.


End file.
